


Something right

by Buttercup_ghost



Category: Dangan Ronpa - All Media Types, Dangan Ronpa Zero, Dangan Ronpa: Trigger Happy Havoc, Mahou Shoujo Madoka Magika | Puella Magi Madoka Magica, Super Dangan Ronpa 2
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Non-Despair, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Multi, Past Abuse, Past Relationship(s), Please just ignore this it's a ridiculous idea tbh but, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, and I couldn't get this thought out of my head, so whoops?, they have the same name, uhhhhh idk probably really occ bc I haven't edited but, vague timeline
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-06
Updated: 2017-09-06
Packaged: 2018-12-24 11:51:12
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 645
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12012132
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Buttercup_ghost/pseuds/Buttercup_ghost
Summary: its funny, if she remembered, if she knew, maybe she could enjoy the irony.





	Something right

**Author's Note:**

> Me: hey madokas moms name is junko wild  
> Brain: what if danga ronpa junko was same person as her  
> Me: that's impossible in the canon timelin-  
> Brain: **but what if**

Junko sometimes said _enoshima_ instead of _kaname,_ spilling off of her red lips—the one thing that hasn't changed—before a hasty correction of herself. Sometimes, in her weaker moments, the name that spills out is _tsumiki_ , or, heaven forbid, _yasuke._ It's always embaressing when it does; messing up her own name is one thing, dreaming of days from before she was married to a gentle man with a smile that made her want to cry, knowing nothing of her sins, but to spill, like blood, flowing from his cuts, as she laughs, and laughs, the names of her former lovers is nothing short of disgraceful.

( _former_ , she says, bitterly. Because despite how gentle her husband is, he will never be her, all stutters, and shy smiles. She doesn't even want to compare him to him, the very thought making acid climb up her throat.

She wonders, breifly, what they would think of her now.)

 

She gets drunk, a lot. She knows the man— _stranger_ —she's married to is worried, but she can't bring herself to care; the alcohol is numbing, helps her forget. Before, she would have laughed gleefully at such a pitiful thing, getting drunk off her rock just to forget her own actions, as if she should be ashamed, but now her bones are weighed down by years of wariness. After mukuro found her, laughing, crying, _glorious_ —no, no, bad thought, disregard it—over mastuda's body, she had gathered her up in her arms, taking her away, from it, from him, from despair. She was determinded after that, seeing her big sister clutching the man she loved, to keep her away from despair–to stop junko. Sometimes, she bitter, wishing that her sister had realized it sooner, had realized it before going through with the plan, taking away Junkos happiness as ryouko but– she knows that's not fair of her. She knows she dug her own grave.

(she knows she's to blame for a lot of things, such as mikan's tumble off the schools building, her shoes lined up on the ledge. Junko dyed her hair her color, now; purple. Sometimes, when she catches her reflection in the mirror, for a split second she thinks– 

but, no, mikan is dead, she should know; she caused it.)

 

Junko doesn't think she'll even be a good mother. Her belly is swollen, though, her husbands hands cradelling, reassuring, saying that it will be ok. She finds it hard to believe him; he doesn't know, not really, how she is truly. She's afraid of herself, of what she could do to a fragile baby–just the thought of the despair she could cause is ecsta– _no, no, I can't go back to that. Despair isn't the way._

When her baby is born; strawberry blonde hair, almost pink, she almost cried, holding her bundle of joy— _hope_ , something echos—and she wonders if she'll screw it up. She doesn't want to hurt this baby— _her_ baby—and vows to never lay a hand on her. To never destroy her like she did to other; to mikan, to mastuda. She names her _madoka_.

(she keeps her promise for fourteen years, playing house as she watched madoka grow out of reach, further and further drifting. She breaks it on a stormy night, her hand hitting her face with a resounding slap, tears in both their eyes.

It's the last time she sees her, and then the universe is rewritten.)

 

 

its funny, if she remembered, if she knew, maybe she could enjoy the irony. The ultimate despair, the one who deluded herself into thinking she was a goddess, helped shape a _actual_ one; helped shaped _hope_. Maybe, just maybe, she did something right, after all.

(but she doesn't remember, she doesn't remember her own daughter, only a buzzing in her mind when her son talks of his imaginary friend—

 _Madoka_.)


End file.
